'None,' she said.
'There were additional assaults against military targets in Srinagar.
They occurred six and seven weeks prior to that attack. National Security Guard officers were present there as well.'
'Did anyone claim responsibility for those attacks?' Friday asked.
'According to the data file those two and this one were claimed by the same group,' Samantha told him.
'The Free Kashmir Militia.' 'Thank you,' Friday said. He had heard of them. Reportedly, they had the backing of the Pakistan government.
'Will you need anything else?' Samantha asked.
'Not right now,' he replied and clicked off.
Friday hooked the cell phone to his belt. He would call his new boss later, when he had something solid to report.
He looked around. There were no Black Cat Commandos here. Maybe that was significant, maybe it was not. Their absence might have been a territorial issue. Or maybe the NSG had been unable to stop the terrorists and the problem had been turned over to the SFF. Perhaps a former SFF officer had been named to a high government post.
Appointments like that routinely led to reorganizations.
Of course, there was always the possibility that this was not routine.
What kind of exceptional circumstances would lead to a department being shut out of an investigation? That would certainly happen if security were an issue. Friday wondered if the NSG might have been compromised by Pakistani operatives. Or maybe the SFF had made it look as though the Black Cats had been penetrated. Because budgets were tighter there was even more interagency rivalry here than there was in the United States.
Friday turned around slowly. There were several two- and three-story-high buildings around the market. However, those would not have been good vantage points for the terrorists.
If they had needed to use the remote detonators, the carts with their high banners, awnings, and umbrellas might have blocked the line of sight. If there had been any cooked food stands in the way smoke might also have obscured their vision. Besides, the terrorists would also have had the problem of renting rooms. There was a danger in leaving a paper trail, like the terrorists who charged the van they used to attack the World Trade Center in New York. And only amateur terrorists paid cash for a room. That was a red flag that usually sent landlords right to the police. Not even the greediest landlord wanted someone who might be a bomb maker living in their building.
Besides, there was no need to hide here. It would have been easy for a terrorist to remain anonymous in this busy marketplace day after day to case the targets, plant the explosives, and watch the site today. But Friday did wonder one thing. Why did the police station and the temple blow up at the same time while the bus did not explode until several seconds later? It was extremely likely that they were related attacks.
It could have been that the timers were slightly out-of-synch. Or maybe there was another reason.
Friday continued walking to where the bus had been parked. Traffic had been diverted from Route 1A to other streets. He was able to stand in the broad avenue and look back at the site. This road was the most direct way out of here. It fed any number of roads. Pursuit would have been extremely difficult even if the police knew the individual or kind of vehicle they were looking for. He found the line-of sight spot that would have been the ideal place to stand in case the timer failed.
It was on the curb, near where the bus was parked. It was about four hundred yards from the target, which was near the maximum range for most remote detonators.
Obviously, if a terrorist were waiting there for the blast, he would not have wanted the bus to blow up yet. He would have waited until after the temple explosion then moved a safe distance away. The bus explosion would have been scheduled to give him time to get away. Or else he had triggered the blast himself using the same remote he would have used on the temple.
But that still did not tell him why there were two separate explosions for the police station and temple. One large explosion would have brought both structures down.
Friday started back toward the other end of the market.
When he got back to his room he would call the NSA. The market attack itself did not bother him. He did not really give a damn who ended up being in charge here. What concerned him were the Black Cats. These people would have access to intelligence about him and Striker once they went into the mountains. If there was even a possibility that the NSG was leaking, he wanted to make sure they were kept out of the circuit.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
Kargil, Kashmir Wednesday, 7:00 p. m.
As his motorcycle sped through the foothills of the Himalayas, Ishaq Fazeli wished he had one thing above all. He had left Apu's farm without eating dinner and he was hungry.
But he did not want food. He had been driving with his mouth open--a bad habit--and his tongue was dry. But he did not want water. What he wanted most was a helmet.
As the lightweight Royal Endfield Bullet sped through the mountain pass, small, flat rocks spit from under the slender wheels. Whenever the roadway narrowed, as it did now, and Ishaq passed too close to the mountainside, the sharp-edged pebbles came back at him like bullets. He would even settle for a turban if he had the material to make one and the time to stop. Instead, Ishaq adjusted to driving with his face turned slightly to the left. As long as the pebbles did not hit his eyes he would be all right. And if they did he would be philosophical about it. He would still have his left eye.
Growing up in the west, near the Khyber Pass, he had learned long ago that the mountains of the subcontinent were not for the weak.
For one thing, even during a short two-hour ride like this, the weather changes quickly. Brutal sunshine can give way to a snow squall within minutes. Sleet can turn to thick fog even quicker. Travelers who are unprepared can
